Figuring out how to begin my story was the hardest part, but I knew when it was over, there was a good chance Rush would walk out that door and never return. I supposed it didn’t matter how I started—the end would be the same, most likely.

“I’m about to tell you a lot of shit, Rush. You’re not going to like most of it, and I understand you may never want to see me again afterward.” He was about to interrupt, but I held up a finger. “Don’t make a promise you don’t know if you can keep by saying ‘nothing I tell you will change how you feel,’ because that’s bullshit. What I will ask is only one thing. Let me tell the story to the end before you walk out of here.”

“You’re so sure I’ll leave?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Rush tightly fisted his hands together on his lap, readying himself, no doubt. “Okay, tell me.”